New Bloods
by Mr.Ratio
Summary: AU Set in the days right before the first wizarding war against Voldemort. A darker and much less inviting wizarding world lies below the london underground and the Order of the Phoenix is locked in a sort-of cold war with Voldemort's Death Eaters. Muggleborn and muggleborn sympathizers alike are disappearing, never to be heard from again. No one feels safe and amidst the darkness.
1. Wards of Steadworth

New Bloods

Chapter 1: The Wards of Steadworth

Cass felt lonely. Not that that was anything new.

Cass would never have admitted it but before she met Nick she had pretty much always felt lonely. Growing up a half-blood witch in Slytherin meant one of two things; either you ignore most of the pure-blooded students' cruel games or try to stand up against it and be ostracized for your folly. Cassandra Powell had pretty much been the poster girl for the latter, making her Hogwarts years, "Educational?" Yes. "Fun?" No. Cass' parents had been the only people she was really close to so she had lived a mostly solitary school life, doing homework alone and keeping to herself until her 7th year.

Her last year at Hogwarts was when she had found her best friend; the day Nick, quite literally, fell into her life.

It was the day before most of the students would board the Hogwarts express home for Winter Hols and the day of the biggest quidditch match of the year between Slytherin and Gryffindor. She had received the customary invitation to watch the match from her dorm mates and had, for once, agreed. It was her last year, and quite possibly the last game of that year (unless somebody caught the snitch before anyone could score) so she had finally said yes. Although they had invited her out she had immediately began to drift away from the group of girls who had a group dynamic that just didn't have room for her. Between Andromeda and Catherine's lively potions chatter and Anathema's ceaseless flirting with one of the Slytherin beaters, Cass was thrown for a loop as to how to act in this admittedly common social setting. This is how she found herself sitting alone at the furthest row of bleachers about two rows away from anyone else.

Despite all of that she had to admit that she had enjoyed herself immensely seeing the players in action even with Gryffindor securing a solid lead, but then again she just couldn't feel herself rooting for the Slytherin team, a team that she had seen was bringing out every dirty trick in the books to stay a few points behind the Gryffs.

Two hours into the match, 7th year, James Potter the Gryffindor Seeker, who had been working the hardest out of the rest of his team what with seemingly being Slytherin's Beaters' only target, had subbed out due to fatigue. From where she sat (which was the closest one might get to the Gryffindor players' holding bay from the Slytherin bleachers) she could hear raised voices among the Gryffindor players.

Their usual reserve Seeker, a 7th year girl named Alice had recently been injured from an "accidental" potions incident and although she was expected to fully recover she just couldn't play. This created some argument about how their lineup would proceed. One thing though was clear they had obviously decided that the Seeker's job was just much too important to put just anyone to the task. They put their Captain, a Chaser with a talent for dives and catches, on the search for the golden snitch. He was tall and handsome and talented enough so that the rest of the team could trust in him to perform well even as a Seeker. Nick then filled in the vacated chaser position. The game continued much as it had before despite the change in lineup, much to the disappointment of the Slytherin team. Gryffindor had extended their lead to 140 when the snakes decided to step up their game, or rather, their tricks. An illegal beater swipe at the Gryffindor captain's broom tail had sent him spinning out of control.

Seeing his captain in peril, Nick raced over to help steady him only to get hit by a bludger to the chest that sent him flying off his broom and down into the Slytherin bleachers. Cass' hastily cast Levitation charm wasn't able to stop him completely but was able to slow his fall just enough to send them both tumbling instead of being turned into bloody splats as he plowed into her.

She had yelped very indignantly.

Nick had sat up groggily afterwards while muttering his thanks until he finally saw just who he'd landed on. His mouth had then stopped moving.

Looking at her, His eyes had seemed to see only her and she blushed at the dazed expression (she had later blamed it on the fall he had recently had) on his face. They sat, limbs tangled, just staring at each other until they both heard a great shout sound throughout the whole stadium. Angry yells from those in green and triumphant cheering from all those in red.

Simultaneously realizing that Gryffindor had won, Cass and Nick disentangled themselves. Luckily, no one noticed them since everyone's attention had been on the match and the golden snitch in the Captain's hand. To counter the momentum of his spinning fall he pulled off a roll turning the opposite way. He had miraculously grabbed the snitch mid-roll, ending the game and pretty much the whole tournament.

They saw the Gryffindor students celebrating their way off the pitch and few Slytherin had lingered after that defeat. Nick and Cass were some of the last few people there.

"Well...Hi?" She had said. "I'm Cassie Silveira." At her words he had caught himself staring and shook his head before replying.

"Nick," he had said with an apologetic grin. "Nick Adolfsen." He had then offered to walk her up to the castle which she accepted.

The rest was history.

She now sat on one of the benches feeling that same loneliness she had once been used to feeling since the moment Nick had left her at the ward chamber with strict instructions not to leave the chamber or touch anything. This was a problem because it seemed to Cass that the whole chamber was filled with magic. He had left her with almost nothing to do, and while she was no stranger to having to work alone, she had not expected boredom. At first, it was bearable. In between chores, she busied herself with studying the large chamber that which she was stuck in. She'd inspected everything that she thought could be worth inspecting, observed the Wardstone for hours, and arranged her supplies so many times that she had lost count.

"So. Damn. Boring!" She shouted to no one in particular as she slumped across the bench, her head resting on her travel pack.

"This sucks." she muttered shifting an arm over her eyes and another over her stomach. It just wasn't right. Nick had already been the one who had kept watch every night while they had been traveling and now he had left her there to head out for supplies. He had to stop coddling her. She was just a few weeks pregnant. That was far from being an invalid, and what the hell did he even mean by "read a book, maybe."?

"I haven't brought any books!"

Shouting angrily, she had flung her arms out in the process.

With her now unobstructed view of the ceiling, the sight that met her eyes had her sitting back up immediately. Looking straight up towards the ceiling, she slowly got to her feet. Her eyes widened and she quickly summoned her wand to her hand as a whisper escaped her lips.

"Oh, bugger me." How the hell could I have missed this?

Swarming above her and numbering in the thousands was what she thought was a hurricane of Dementors…but that couldn't be right.

Where was the chilling cold and the great wave of despair that came with them? No, these weren't Dementors. She'd fought enough of them off to know just how screwed she was if they were. At closer inspection, she could see that the spectral images were not black but were in fact a deep purple and hadn't donned the tattered black cowls the Dementors always wore. Also, unlike dementors, each figure seemed to actually have skin, or whatever a ghost might have instead of skin and wore clothes from different eras. Each and every one of them could very well have been mistaken for purple, semitransparent, human beings...You know what I mean. Some, she could see, were even chatting with each other.

They're all just whirling about up there without a care! she thought. Adrenaline and fear had turned into bewildered crossness

"Oi, you lot!" She yelled before her brain even thought to filter her mouth. "What's all this then?"

Thousands of ghostly faces seemed to all turn towards her at the same time. A quiet had filled the entire chamber. It was at this point that she abruptly became quite painfully aware of how ridiculously rude she had just been. What happened next had her eyes widening into saucers.

They all laughed at her.

"I...uhmm, Oh! Ahh. That is-" she stammered out over their laughter before her mouth clamped shut in red faced embarrassment.

She bent her head down as the ghosts continued to laugh. She'd wait till they were done and had composed themselves.

"Alrigh'! Alrigh'! Tha's enuff wi' tha'!" A voice rang out above the rest. "Gi' the lass a break!"

She looked up in the direction of the voice to see one of the larger "purple ghosts" floating towards her. He was a large barrel chested man with strong, hard features but looked to be one of the younger specters. He wore what might've been worn by an actor on the set of Macbeth and had the beard and mustache to go with it.

"Gree'ings, Li'l mistress!" He said as the others looked on in amusement and curiosity.

"I am Sir Archibald McCallum and t' answer your question we..." He actually paused for dramatic effect. "-are the castle wards!" She stared blankly at him, mentally willing him to keep talking while she tried to find her voice. He happily obliged.

"We were wonderin' if you'd ever notice us. Why, your eyes would shut the moment you'd lie down." He said with a grin. "At first we'd all been waiting patiently, but after a while we'd kind of got bored and started chatting with each other. It surprised us all when your first words were not so much spoken as it was yelled." He laughed again.

"Sorry. I don't have much of a filter. I didnt mean to be so rude." Cassie said, still embarrassed.

"Oh none o' tha' now lass." He said, putting her at ease. "You're the mistress here. You can talk' to us any way ye please."

"I dunnae abou' tha' Archie!" A young female ward had cut in from above.

"Ligh'en up my dear." Sir Archibald called to her from where he floated. "I'm sure the lass meant no harm."

Cassie smiled apologetically up at the woman who was eyeing her a bit more curiously than the others.

"Well, we're all really glad you're here. If ye have any questions, just ask anyone." Sir Archibald said and lowering his voice so he wouldn't be heard by anyone else, he added, "Don't mind Mildred. She just gets jealous if I pay attention to any woman besides her."

Cassie giggled. She guessed wards must be people too.

"Actually, I do have a few questions." She began, "What do you mean by 'I'm the mistress'? Mistress of what?" "Well," Archibald said, not missing a beat, "of us."

"You," he said with an almost ceremonial tone, "are the Mistress of the Wards"

After that, she didn't run out of questions for such a long time that Archibald took to taking shifts with some of the other wards just to keep up. Suffice it to say that she had well and truly found a way to occupy her time and meeting all of these new people had made her immensely happy. The wards had just been glad that they had such a curious new mistress and friend.

* * *

Next Chapter: We meet Nick, we see James, and some of our Heroes reunite.

Reviews are welcome. :)


	2. Driving Force

New Bloods

Chapter 2: Driving Force

Situated within the Scandinavian Peninsula, Norway's magical community placed themselves among the mountains and tundra at settlements that were hidden in plain sight. Snowfall Valley was one such settlement and being the southernmost of its three major settlements, had Norway's least cold and biting winds. Those winds had chilled and bit Nick nevertheless.

Steadworth Hold had stood just within hiking distance from Snowfall valley for countless generations. The bleak gray structure made for an opposing silhouette against the white blanket of snow and ice. Trudging through the snowed path to the hold, Nick cracked his knuckles to get the feeling back in his fingers. The intense chill in the air had his bones aching and he could feel the muscles of his digits straining to stretch out and flex around the wand in his hand. The hooded coat over his head and shoulders served him well with keeping most of the cold out but he had been walking for over an hour by then and there was little in the world that could keep a blizzard at bay for long.

Thoughts came to Nick's head, of the old codger-y headmaster himself -beard and all- standing at the center of a whirlwind of fire, his phoenix familiar seeming to both come from and bring life to the inferno. That's when he realized- or rather remembered- something, and the wand in his hand gave a flick in recognition.

Focusing on the pool of energy at his center as a short measured wave pulsed over its surface, he muttered a spell under his breath and a blanket of warmth ran across his skin.

Vodka was his first choice for warming up but he had long since finished his last bottle and well, he needed to be sober for the task he had to do. Wrapping his coat closer around his body, he set his brow downward. The thought of what waited for him at the great keep brought shivers down his spine almost as much as the winds did and the path he was taking seemed to stretch out despite Steadworth already being within sight.

The hold's anti-apparition Ward-stones still held strong despite how long ago they had been set so he'd had to take the long path up to the gated walls instead. He continued on his way, dragging his legs through the snow, head down and trying to face away from the arctic winds. Soon he reached the old wooden dour door. Lifting and sliding aside some bolts and whispering a few words, he caused a short flash to travel from his wand and into the door. The glow ran through and across engravings in the wood, pulsing an ominous purple before an audible click could be heard. The door was unlocked.

* * *

The car shot past every traffic light and sign of midnight London, narrowly dodging oncoming traffic and what sparse few pedestrians littered the streets. With a screech, it skid aggressively around a sharp corner making smoke out of rubber. It slowed down just a little bit and for a moment the car was more than just a blur and anyone who could have seen it would have agreed that it was no ordinary motoring vehicle.

They would've been correct because the car was in fact, not ordinary. Well, not anymore that is.

James Potter, the man behind the wheel, had taken it upon himself to make a few positive changes to the auto he had "borrowed" from a muggle who had stopped on the side of the road to take a leak. James was quite desperately fleeing from Death Eaters so he figured he'd just come back some other day with the car intact and some compensation on hand. He really wished to get the muggle his property back somehow, but seeing as how what little left of the car there was left was barely keeping together, he found it quite unlikely.

The barrage of spellfire coming from the Death Eaters behind him continued and he wondered how long he'd be able to keep the car going on willpower alone. Ok, maybe a little magic was involved too. He'd seen Arthur do it a million times but he couldn't help but feel like he'd missed a few important structural enchantments. _I guess it can't be helped. Transfiguration was always more my thing than Charms or Runes._

The car was little more than a chassis and wheels by then and James was starting to get genuinely anxious. He'd been in a few firefights but this was the first time he'd had to go about it alone. He was a fairly powerful wizard. Top marks, commendations in

DADA and Transfiguration, and everything but his skills seemed more set with his cunning. Without Sirius to watch his back and Remus to help keep his wits about he had no way of focusing. Not to say that this was his first mission alone. On the contrary, most of the missions he'd been on for the order were one-man Intel gathering missions but this was the first time he'd gotten caught and evidently, being caught spying lead to being chased

He had been following a lead they'd gotten through eavesdropping in on a conversation between Lucius Malfoy and Gregory Goyle. From what they could gather from Lucius' hushed instructions and veiled words, Goyle was supposed to arrange an escort run for a certain high priority shipment of NMT (NonMagicallyTransportable) goods. Goyle had taken Crabbe and a couple of, as of yet unidentified DEs to the site. He was only supposed to take a look at the shipment to find out what it was but when he saw what they were hauling he just couldn't resist.

Not that he even had a clue as to what he'd just nicked but he knew that Voldemort had quite a few of the shiny-lettered, leather tome like things (he counted 6 or 7) and damn were they important looking. The one that was in his possession and the reason why he was being chased was sitting pretty in his messenger bag which was slung across his shoulders like the seatbelt he wasn't wearing should've been. He hadn't even had the time to crack open the damned thing but from what he'd seen of the cover he'd surmised that he wouldn't have been able to read it anyway. He didn't know what the language was but he knew that it was old and was more than just a little bit similar to some of the runic symbols he'd seen in passing. Despite this he had no pretensions of trying to decipher them himself, his goal was to get it to the Order and to Dumbledore.

Following a pattern through the streets turning right then left, right then left, alternating at each intersection, he had gotten Crabbe and Goyle to follow the pattern mindlessly. He intended to lull them into a false sense of security and believed he had done so by the time he came up to a particularly empty crossway. Naturally, James broke pattern, taking a sharp left in the place of the expected right and speeding if into the night.

The brake lights flashed red, illuminating the curb as the chassis on wheels came to a screeching halt by the road. James jumped out and ran down an alley seconds before his ride decided to collapse in on itself and veritably dissolved from spell damage

* * *

Nick steeled his nerves and licked his lips as he walked in through the darkened doorway of Steadworth Hold. Tired of the cold and wanting to feel warm again, he was quick to close the door as soon as he got his whole body through.

"I'm home." He whispered into the shadows.

There was no conviction to be found in his voice yet the words echoed over the stone walls in front of him, resonating more than any normal stone should've. As if in answer to his call, torches on the walls lit up to reveal a long passageway of more stone.

Taking the path with forced confidence in his stride, Nick noted the many carvings and engravings that filled almost every space upon the walls. He could make out a few of the symbols as house crests of the hold's many previous protectors but the majority of the engravings were actually protective runes. He was looking at layers upon layers of shield and ward runes, set by some of the most powerful wizards and witches of every age. _And eventually, I'll have to start acting like one of them._ Soon he had reached a large chamber one of the few places within the inner sanctum of the hold that featured natural light. A tower creating open space starting from deep down and continuing all the way to the highest reaches of the hold where it opened passed the clouds made for an imposing sight. The chamber was mostly made of smooth white marble but in the center was a huge monolith that looked as if it could have been made of marble but was in no way smooth. Rune upon rune was carved into every inch of the stone's surface. It pulsed with pure magical power made even more impressive by the low humming it emitted. This was the Central Wardstone that was more or less responsible for the protection of the entirety of the inner sanctum.

To his sides opened two paths that would each have taken him deep into the mazelike structure of the inner hold, but he didn't take either. At least, not yet.

Directly in front of him was a small indentation on the floor. Heptagonal in shape, it looked to be almost 2 inches deep and was surrounded by runic lettering that pulsed in time with the monolith.

From the inside of the jacket he wore under his coat and over his shirt, Nick took out a small leather messenger's bag. Lifting the scratched brown front over and sticking his forearm deep down the opening of the bag, he dug around it with his hand until his fingers wrapped around what he was looking for.

With an awkward flourish, he lifted out a long staff and, kneeling, stabbed it down into its designated indent.

The great ebony wardstaff fit perfectly, standing upright at about 5 feet. It was itself covered in more runes that resonated the same power as the great wardstone itself.

After a few moments he unclasped his fingers and let go of the staff. Drawing himself up to his full height, he could hear the humming in the chamber grow louder as the hold acknowledged its protector.

His business within the chamber being over, he decided to take the path to the right. Striding passed the many benches spanning much of the way to the east warren entrance that were mirrored on the left to the west, he finally let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Passing through an archway, he entered the east warrens.

"Wrong way, Nick." A voice called from behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

* * *

James was running. His head hurt and his lungs had been screaming for a break but he had no time to stop or even think so he kept running.

The smell of the piss stained alleyway filled the air and he had to bite back a wretch as it reached his aching lungs. His legs had started to drag but they kept their frantic pace. He was keenly aware of the messenger bag slapping his hip with every leaping stride, its contents still relatively intact and undamaged.

Deeper into the alleyway, the air got heavier and he tripped and stumbled as his chest gave out to a coughing fit. James is almost glad when he drops his pack of cigarettes in the fall. As he gets up he takes a quick look behind him to see the orange flashes of tracer spells making their way toward him.

At a point where he thought he'd never reach his destination in time, he spotted the rusty gray sewer cap he'd been hoping for.

He thought he might've just cried as he came up to an entrance to the Undercity.

* * *

"Merlin!" Nick yelped as he turned to face the owner of the voice his eyebrows knit into a frown. "Cass! Don't sneak up on people!" "I wasn't sneaking! You ignored me!" She retorted taking a step towards him.

Hands on her waste and her lips in a pout, Cass had almost convinced Nick that she was genuinely hurt but the teasing mirth in her eyes gave her away. She stood no more than 2 meters away from him and looked to have just gotten up from one of the benches. /Her wand is out so she must have been practicing/ Nick thought. /or maybe she had pondered about hexing me/ Shaking his head, he let out a chuckle causing Cass' pout to lift into a wide grin. Nick leapt over the bench in front of him as Cass closed the rest of the distance with a few quick steps. The kiss shared by the recently reunited relatively newlywed couple was in no way brief.

SLAP

"Ow! What was that for?"

"That," Cassie said matter-of-factly, "was for leaving your pregnant wife alone for 2 days without so much as a word." "I...left a note," he said meekly, "didn't want...to wake you."

At this she raised a single brow.

"I probably deserve worse don't I?"

"Yeah but I'll let it slide if you picked up some bacon." she said, grinning.

Nick lifted out a bag of groceries from his bag with a smile.

* * *

James held his breath in wait as the steps from above grew louder and louder. The moment he could swear that the steps had well and truly passed him by and shrunk into the distance was when he had let himself breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't every day you had deadly spellfire shot at you and lived to tell the tale. No, for James Potter, it was every other day.

He stopped to take a breather, spelling his clothes cleaner and letting his lungs fill themselves with air. He took the time to map out his next steps from then on. First he'd get to Moony and Padfoot at the safe house. Next, they would crack open a few beers and together they would go over what they had all found. Finally, they would send their report to the rest of the order. _Easy._

* * *

_Ok...Not easy._

In front of him was the door to the safe house. This wouldn't have been so bad if the door wasn't in two pieces, three and four feet from the doorway.

As he cautiously stepped towards said doorway, he could see the trashed interior of the house. Whatever happened here had obviously already happened, but just minutes ago. Caution turned to worry. Stepping inside only revealed more of the same disarray. There were spellburns on the walls and carpeting, large claw marks on every surface, and there wasn't an unbroken thing in sight. This included the body slumped against an overturned table.

_Oh God, Padfoot!_

Wand already out, James ran over to check on his friend. Fearing the worst, James poked Sirius on the chest. He groaned.

James let the breath he was holding out.

Casting some basic health status and healing spells, James got to work patching up his unconscious companion. He had found Padfoot.

"But where's Mooney?" He muttered.

"Prongs?" he heard Sirius groan.

"Shhh. Just rest, Padfoot." said James.

"Prongs," he whispered in between shallow breaths. "find...Moony...went...wolf."

With that he drifted off back into unconsciousness.

_Wolf?_ James thought. _Oh bollocks, the claw marks! But how?_

He shook himself before he started to panic.

He first had to bring Sirius somewhere safe.

* * *

Aberforth's pub had been locked down shut despite it only being 10 o'clock. He must have heard the commotion at the safehouse because it hadn't taken long after James had knocked before Aberfoth had started casting every identifying spell he had. One thing you have to respect about Aberforth, he probably knows every identity spell and whosit charm known to man. With a final orange flash the spellcasting through the door ceased and the door had finally been unlocked. A tall bearded wizard stood behind it. Aberfoth looked a lot like his brother yet their presences could not have been any more different. While Albus' demeanor made him seem like the wizened old man he meant people to underestimate him as, Aberforth radiated the power that Albus often hid underneath his eccentric shenanigans.

"Hurry up and hand him over," Aberfoth barked. "I haven't got all night."

"Thank you so much for this Aberforth, I owe you a solid." James said lifting Sirius over to Aberforth who held him up with a levitation spell.

"No need," was Aberforth's gruff reply. "I owe Sirius a favor. Well, a couple favors. I guess it's the least I could do considering..." "Yeah, I get ya. Take care of him." Said James with a wave.

"Come back here with that other friend of yours or you'll have hell to pay from this prick." Aberforth said gesturing with Sirius in his hands.

"Trust me Aberforth, if it came to that," he called over his shoulder, "I'd deserve whatever hell would come for me."

A crack of apparition then whisked him away.

* * *

_Next Chapter: James finds Moony, Nick and Cassie talk about Steadworth, and Patroni bring our Heroes together...ish._

_Reviews are welcome :)_


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